


Once Fractured

by Alexander_L



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Dimitri has an existential crisis as he probably does once a day and twice on Sundays, Established Relationship, F/M, Introspection, Love, Post-Blue Lions Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Self-Doubt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:13:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29054961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexander_L/pseuds/Alexander_L
Summary: Whenever Dimitri fears losing his way, he can trust Marianne to steady him.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Marianne von Edmund
Comments: 5
Kudos: 34





	Once Fractured

**Author's Note:**

> A short drabble, far too introspective even be called fiction, I guess. I have always wondered if writing Dimitri would hit too close to home. The answer turns out to be yes, so I am not sure if I will write him again. But I had this on my mind and decided to write it nonetheless.

Sometimes Dimitri thinks he would have made a good farmhand. To work from the rising of the sun to its setting, hardly a moment’s rest amidst tasks that work up a sweat and rid the body of its restlessness through strenuous labor… Well, to be fair, perhaps he would not be a  _ good _ farmhand, for he knows he has neither the gentleness needed for tending to creatures nor the intuitiveness that is required to work with plants. But he thinks sometimes about how he would be a happy one, and how that would be enough.

He told this once to Sylvain who immediately offered him a job on the Gautier ranches, going into enthusiastic detail about the raising of horses and making the whole thing sound rather wholesome. But in the end, Sylvain trailed off and just stared into the fireplace for a while, sipping his wine.

They both know there is no point in hypotheticals or fanciful ideas. Dimitri will never be anything other than king and he will never be as good a king as he was a soldier. 

“Perhaps I shall give you the crown if you give me that position at your ranch in exchange,” Dimitri had said with a laugh meant to pass the whole thing off as a joke, although he was afraid it was an unconvincing one.

“Me? King?” Sylvain had laughed as well, perhaps a little too loudly. “What a disgrace!”

Sylvain had turned the conversation lighter with amusing depictions of all the parties he would throw and renovations he would commission upon the drafty old palace in Fhirdiad. Meanwhile Dimitri drank through the bottle of wine and found at its bottom a bit of peace for the evening from his wearying mood. 

But even in sober moments from time to time ever since the thought will creep unbidden into his mind – a life where he is not king, where someone with aptitude for politics and leadership wears the crown instead. 

He is constantly doubting, oft erring. He is at all times one disaster from shattering and does not this world deserve to rest upon a more stable foundation than the fragile glass his sanity is formed from?

Marianne is silent for several minutes after he tells her in a late-night hour of honesty. He cradles her to his chest as they lie in bed and waits. Her silences are no longer worrisome to him, for he knows her well and knows she will speak her mind to him when she is ready. For that reason he can say anything to her: innocent and inconsequential things that others might laugh at, disturbing things that others would fear. He knows she will understand and that if she does not, she will seek to.

It is well past midnight; the only sound in the room is the crackle of the fire in the hearth and the soft patter of rain on the windows. She tucks her head in the crook of his neck and he rests his cheek against her hair, breathing in the lovely fragrance of lavender soap that always clings to her body, along with the faint scent of vulneries and herbal teas that she brews. She is no longer the physician of an army but that has never stopped her from being a healer. 

“I didn’t think I would live this long,” she says at last. “You know how I used to be. You know how I once tried to…” She refrains from finishing the thought. She has told him of the dark and delicate memory she is referring to before and she does not need to go through the ache of putting it into words again. “At my worst times, I did not want to keep living. Other times, I still feared I wouldn’t even if I wanted to. But here I am.”

Dimitri tips her face up so her lips can meet his and Marianne pauses to kiss him deeply, a moment of comfort and affection for them both to express their gratitude that she is here.

Her eyes are closed when they part and she exhales a long breath, a faint smile on her lips. Dimitri kisses the corner of her mouth, anything to encourage that smile.

“What I mean to say is that somehow we just keep going, every day. We get up and we go on,” she finishes. “It’s amazing what we can do when we have to.”

“But I cannot discount the possibility that I might once again become the man I used to be. I have no illusions that I have changed completely,” he says.

“Even after the best healing spells, a broken bone will always contain a bit of weakness and will fracture easier in the future,” Marianne says.

He nods.

“I know,” she adds. “We can never unbreak ourselves.”

“Then how can anyone say that my fears are unfounded?” he asks.

“What’s so wrong with being afraid?”

Her question surprises him and he gives her a confused look.

Marianne opens her eyes and smiles at him again, reaching up to brush his hair out of his face and trail her fingertips across his cheek. “I watched you a lot back when we were young.” She blushes a bit at that and avoids his gaze for a second. “I couldn’t help it.”

When he smiles at her, she continues, saying, “Back then you were never afraid. You pushed away anyone who sought to help you and you pretended nothing was wrong. You are not like that anymore. When you see the signs of things going wrong in your mind, you tell me, you ask people for their help and wisdom and you heed it. That’s why, even though it’s possible you could lose yourself again like you once did, I don’t think you will. Because I’ll stop you. You’ll stop yourself.”

There are a hundred more fears and arguments in his mind but Marianne looks at peace with the matter and he decides to let it rest.

“I will trust you then,” he says and slips his hand behind her head to cradle it gently as he kisses her.

She kisses him back harder than he expects, her tongue slipping between his lips and her hands clutching at his shoulders, pulling his body on top of hers. Propping himself up overtop her, he kisses her back eagerly.

“I trust myself with you,” she whispers.

“And I with you.”

“There is something else that makes me feel strong when I have these same worries.”

“What is it, my love?” he murmurs against her skin as he kisses her neck.

“Being happy.”

“Then let us be happy for a while.”

She wraps her legs around his waist and he moves his hips against hers longingly, kissing her neck with rising passion and delighting in her soft gasp and moan. Coherent thoughts slip away in the bewitching distraction of her body, but later, warm and flushed and at peace, they return and he finds that a resolution has nevertheless settled into him in their absence.

“Sleep, Dimitri,” Marianne says, straightening out the tangled covers and spreading them evenly across the bed once more. She tugs him down to lie beside her and exhales a long, satisfied breath. “It is late.”

“Goodnight, my love.”

“Goodnight.”

He tosses and turns for a while but eventually sleep does overcome him. It is fraught with his usual dreams and he awakens exhausted and harrowed as he does most days. Marianne is still asleep, murmuring something fitfully and he kisses her forehead and whispers soothingly to her until she calms and sleeps peacefully.

Climbing out of bed, he walks over to the closet and dons his clothes and crown. Adjusting the patch over his eye, he squints at his reflection in the mirror and ties his hair up into a bun. 

Once he is presentable, he will take a deep breath and send for their morning tea. He will wake Marianne and spend a few blessed minutes with her before leaving to start his day. He will settle into the rhythm of his work and another day will pass somehow with enough productivity that he will marvel at it later when he reflects on how impossible such a feat seemed in the weary morning.

He will not sleep any better the following night, nor the night after. But he will rise all the same and dress and work and persevere.

He will never be as good a king as he was a soldier. He will never be as patient as Dedue or as strong as Byleth or as wise as Marianne. He will never be as smart as Sylvain or resilient as Felix or as bright as Annette. He will often be erring, always doubting, exhausted by the responsibilities he can never escape.

But he will be happy, and that will be enough.


End file.
